Critical Identity
by ALEO
Summary: What if it was Don that lost his memory whilst on the job? Sort of a companion piece to Identity Crisis but can be read alone. 3 chapters. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**Numb3rs: Critical Identity**

**Disclaimer** – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however.

What if it was Don that lost his memory whilst on the job?

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The noise was deafening, two loud gunshots just far enough apart in time to be discerned as two distinct shots. But only just. There was pain and then nothing.

The ground was cold and hard. That was the first thing he was aware of. Next it was that he was lying on his back and the ceiling was tastefully decorated with a recess containing neon lighting in a soothing blue colour. Finally it was the splitting headache that radiated from the left side of his head. He struggled up to a seated position as his left hand rose to his head. There was a scraping noise and he realised that he had something in his right hand.

He raised his right hand once he was sure of his balance and looked with a degree of shock at what he held. It was a small semi-automatic pistol. He carefully glanced at the barrel and saw that it had recently been fired. At this point a dark shadow on his periphery drew his attention. He turned and froze.

The shadow was a man lying sprawled on his back, head turned away. There was a pistol in the man's right hand, a similar style to the one he held with squared off edges and matte black colouring, but larger. The other man wasn't moving. He crawled over to check and the bullet hole in the middle of the man's forehead settled that question. The bright red blood that still ran from the wound was in stark contrast to the pale face and dark brown hair. He was very much dead.

And he was also FBI. The Kevlar vest the dead man wore had the letters 'FBI' stencilled in white on the front. A metal badge rested on the agent's belt.

The injured man sat back on his heels and had to quickly brace himself with his left hand as he experienced momentary dizziness. His hand started to slip and he managed to rebalance himself before he fell. The reason his hand slid became all too clear, his hand was slick with blood from his head. He carefully ducked his head raising his arm at the same time and wiped the side of his head with his shirt sleeve. The world spun but he had been prepared for that.

Okay, so something had happened to him causing him to have this headache and be bleeding. Had he been shot? He looked back over at the dead agent and the gun the man still held. It also had a slight grey discolouration around the muzzle indicating that it too had been recently fired.

So, two and two make four, right? By his addition the FBI agent had shot at him and he had shot the FBI agent. He had survived, the agent hadn't. This was not good. Shooting an FBI agent usually landed one in jail for life if lucky or death row if unlucky. The thing was he had no memory of actually shooting the man, nor did he have a clue as to why he would have done such a thing.

That wasn't the worst of it. His left hand came back up to protectively cup the side of his pounding head as his vision threatened to grey out. He realised that he had no idea who he was. He couldn't remember anything from before he woke up on the cold tiles.

Looking around for a clue as to where he was he recognised that it was a shopping mall. It also appeared as if it had been abandoned in a hurry, the stores were all open but there were no people around. The music piped through speakers in the ceiling was unnaturally loud without the crowd noise to dull it down. There were no signs that he could see to enlighten him as to where the mall was. He didn't even know what city or town he was in. That was something he would have to find out.

Maybe it would help him understand what had happened, how he came to be a cop killer. He just knew that he didn't feel like a cop killer, for some reason he couldn't see himself doing such a thing. His logic was flawed however and he knew that he had no basis on which to make that claim for he clearly had killed the agent. For all he knew he was a hard core offender that considered murdering a cop as no big deal.

He was getting constant dizzy spells and it was a struggle to stay upright but he could hardly stay here and wait for the agent's backup to arrive. That was a fast track to jail. He had to go. Forcing himself to his feet he looked down seeing that he was wearing dark jeans and a black t-shirt. Patting at his pockets he found them empty, no ID. He should have realised it wouldn't be that simple. What about the dead agent? Had he perhaps taken his ID before they'd reached their standoff? Bending he started to reach for the dead man's pockets when sudden calls alerted him that he was about to have company.

"Don!" A female voice called again from around a corner. She sounded close.

There were sounds of at least two people running towards his position. Time to move. Somehow he suspected hanging around and telling whoever approached that he didn't remember what happened wouldn't work well for him, especially not with a recently fired gun in his possession. And at this point in time he wasn't prepared to give it up and surrender his only protection either.

The surge of adrenalin gave him much needed strength, pity it didn't do too much for his balance. He headed away from the body and darted into the adjacent store which was located on the corner of another hall, it would have a second exit on the other side. Assured of an escape route he stopped, hiding himself behind a rack of clothing. Maybe he could learn something by watching what happened when the dead agent was found. He peered from concealment as a man and a woman ran up to the body.

They were both wearing black Kevlar vests with 'FBI' emblazoned across the front and were carrying handguns. They skidded to a halt staring at the body before the woman knelt and checked for a pulse. The fugitive thought that was a rather redundant thing to do, it should be obvious to her that she wouldn't find one, but figured that they probably had to make sure, especially as the dead man was one of their own. The man remained standing, scanning the surrounding area. The fugitive quashed the instinctive reaction to move; knowing that to have done so would have drawn attention to him. He remained frozen in place watching as the female agent shook her head at the lack of a pulse before taking the dead man's weapon.

"Don killed him?" The male agent asked.

"That's what it looks like."

"What's with the vest? And where is Don?"

The fugitive felt that they were talking about him, that he was this 'Don'. The name meant nothing. He also thought that their reaction to their dead comrade was a bit off, they didn't seem particularly upset. Perhaps the dead agent hadn't been liked much. In another move that confused him, they then put away their own guns. They knew he was in the wind, why holster their weapons?

"I don't know. Look." She pointed at some crimson blotches on the tiles a short distance away. She moved over to kneel beside them, comparing the position of the blood stains to the body.

"He's been hit. How many shots did you hear?"

"Two, I think." She frowned. "They were so close."

The male agent nodded his agreement and peered around. "I can't see a trail. You think he's gone looking for us?"

"I don't know. I would have thought he'd wait with the body. He knew we weren't far away." She sounded puzzled.

"We have to find him."

"Call Colby." The woman started snapping out orders. "Have him call the EMTs and guard the body. Alert everyone to keep an eye out for Don. Tell LAPD to keep the perimeter under surveillance and start a sweep through the mall. I'll go this way, you take that hall."

The fugitive couldn't help but shrink back slightly as she pointed in his direction. As she headed down the main hall past the store entrance he adjusted his position to keep the hanging clothing between them. He glanced back to see that the male agent had stood and was facing away, speaking rapidly into a cell phone, presumably to this 'Colby'. He waited a little longer, wanting a bit more time and space between him and the female agent before he attempted to make good his escape. Where he went after that was completely unknown but for now he was going to have to head down the hall that the male agent had been assigned. It was a matter of timing.

As he waited he heard the woman calling out, repeating the name 'Don' several times as she moved away. The male agent suddenly turned his head in reaction to a sound from back in the direction they had come from, presumably someone coming to guard the body. The agent would be starting his search soon. The fugitive started backing away, heading for the other exit from the store. Concentrating on watching the agent he didn't watch where he was heading and failed to see the rack of belts behind him. As he hit it the metal frame skittered across the floor, the belt buckles jangling noisily. The male agent reacted immediately, spinning and reaching for the weapon holstered at his waist. The fugitive didn't wait, sprinting out from cover, dodging past racks of clothes and out the far side of the store.

"Don!" The male agent yelled. "Don, stop!"

_I don't think so_, the fugitive thought as he pounded down the hall. He heard the footfalls of the other agent in pursuit. Increasing his speed, and trying desperately to maintain his footing as the world around him spun and tilted in varying and random directions, he continued running. He made it around another corner before stumbling and bouncing off the far wall. His flight halted for a moment and he found himself in another hall.

"Don!" The male agent called out, he was far too close.

"Don?" The female agent yelled in response.

From her call he could tell that she was fast approaching from another section of the mall, the branching halls making it possible for her to loop her way back from a different direction. They couldn't have boxed him in better if they had tried. The fugitive looked around him trying to find a way out, a fire exit, anything. No such luck. He took the only option open to him, a large sporting goods store. He hoped desperately that there was a back exit, the stores on either side made it clear there was no side exit.

He zig-zagged through the store crossing from aisle to aisle, trying to provide himself with as much cover as he could as he made his way to the rear. He reached the door to the store room but when he tried to turn the handle it refused to budge, it was locked. He was trapped.

"Don?"

He ducked down, scuttling sideways. The male agent was in the store and by the sounds of it he was in the next aisle.

"Don, come on man what are you doing?"

The agent moved closer, carefully but openly. The fugitive peered through a display stand watching as the man walked past. He started to make his way towards the front of the store when the agent abruptly turned and backtracked. The fugitive was still hidden for the moment but would soon be spotted. He raised his gun and sighted through the merchandise on the agent's head. Curling his finger onto the trigger he followed the agent's movement as the man approached. Another second or two and he would have a clear shot as the agent would be passing within a few feet.

At the last minute he lowered his aim, swapping the gun to his left hand. He just couldn't do it. Maybe he really was a hardened criminal but right at the moment he wasn't, he was confused and wanted out but didn't want to kill anyone if he could avoid it. If he had to then that was another story. But for now there was possibly an opportunity here that he could make use of. The agent cleared the end of the rack and came face to face with his quarry. The fugitive was ready, right fist cocked and already in motion. With a single blow he knocked the African-American agent sprawling, the man's gun clattering to the floor as he fell momentarily stunned.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Numb3rs: Critical Identity**

**Disclaimer** – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however.

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David stared up at the man standing over him, trying very hard to avoid the disconcerting view of the muzzle of the gun being pointed directly at his face. It was a stranger, he had the features of his boss but Don was definitely not at home. He didn't know what was worse, being held at gunpoint by an offender or being held at gunpoint by a man that half an hour ago he would have trusted to have his back.

David slowly sat up being careful not to make any threatening moves as Don retrieved his gun from the floor where it had landed when he'd been blindsided. Don's aim never faltered.

"Don-" David started.

"Shut up." Don instructed firmly. Even the voice sounded different somehow. "I need to think."

The gun flicked to the side and David scooted back until he hit the wall in response. He slowly rubbed at his sore jaw with one hand whilst keeping the other in full view. Whilst it seemed that something was wrong with Don his excellent reflexes were still in play. As he waited for Don to decide what to do he eyed his boss carefully finding the source of the blood they'd seen earlier on the floor. There was a bullet graze on Don's left temple. He had also been sure that he'd heard two shots earlier, one bullet had taken out Lawson, it looked like the other had creased Don's head. Perhaps that explained Don's strange behaviour.

"What's your name?" Don demanded suddenly, his eyes that had been hunting around the empty store now came to rest on his captive as he crouched just out of reach.

"Don, what-?"

"Name!" The other man interrupted harshly.

"David, David Sinclair." He answered. It felt really weird to identify himself to someone who knew him. He looked at his boss's face and found that Don appeared to be confused and possibly even afraid. Something he'd never expected to see on Don's face. "I'm on your team. Don, don't you remember anything?"

"Don? David?" Megan's voice called from outside the store.

Don tensed and raised a warning finger to his lips demanding silence from his captive. David held his tongue as they waited until finally they heard the sounds of footsteps heading away.

"Alright, if you know everything, who am I?" Don demanded after a few more seconds.

"You are Special Agent Don Eppes, my supervisor at the FBI Field Office here in Los Angeles."

"Hah! Whatever. You think I came down in the last shower of rain to fall for that?" Don clearly didn't believe it. He waved his gun towards the entrance to the store and the rest of the mall. David finally realised that it was Don's smaller backup weapon as his boss continued. "I've killed one of you and now you and that other agent and whoever else is out there are going to kill me if I'm not careful."

David frowned until he remembered that Lawson had been wearing Don's Kevlar vest with the letters 'FBI' clearly marked. "He wasn't an agent, Don. He was the man we were looking for. I don't know what happened but you didn't kill an agent."

"Yeah, well at this point I can only believe what I see with my own eyes."

"So tell me what you 'saw with your own eyes'."

Don hesitated before answering. "I woke up next to the dead guy. I have no idea who I am or what has happened. I look at the dead guy and he's got an FBI vest on and a badge on his belt. I got a gun in my hand and he's been shot. You tell me what I'm supposed to think happened."

Put like that David could now see why Don was acting the way he was, running away from them and now holding him at gunpoint. "So why haven't you shot me?"

Don gave him a funny look as if he wasn't quite sure himself but the expression soon hardened. "Because I don't need to. Yet. You might be useful."

A chill ran down David's back at Don's tone. He couldn't help but look back at the gun that had maintained its steady aim. He was starting to believe the Don would really shoot him if he was desperate enough. He obviously already thought he'd killed one agent, so at this point he had nothing to loose. Don probably was desperate enough. David pulled himself together. _Alright, if Don thought he could be useful_, "Let me help you."

"If your help means I surrender I don't think so. I might not remember who I am but I do know that killing a cop gets life in jail or a needle. Neither of those options sounds too appealing."

"Your name is Don Eppes, you are an FBI agent. You haven't killed a cop and aren't going to jail." David tried to ram that home but the only response he got was a calculating gaze as Don tried to figure out his angle. "Come on, do you at least believe me that your name is Don?"

His boss ran his spare hand through his hair in gesture that was all Don. He stopped abruptly as his fingers hit the graze. The hand rested for a moment against the side of his head as he winced. "I don't have a clue what my name is. You lot have been running around calling that out and just before you called me 'Don'. So for the lack of anything else that will do."

David saw that Don was obviously hurting from the wound and had noted that he seemed a little unsteady but in true Don fashion was carrying on regardless. "Okay, so you'll accept that your name is Don. What can I do to prove the rest?"

Don relaxed slightly. "I don't think now is the time to prove anything. I want you to get me out of here."

"How?"

"Call one of your fed buddies. Tell them I want a car to get us away. Once I'm safe I'll let you go."

David knew that wasn't going to happen. The last thing they needed was an armed, dangerous and amnesiac Don on the loose in LA. But calling Megan sounded like a very good idea. David slowly moved his hand to his pocket and pulled out his cell. He flipped it open and hit Megan's speed dial before placing the phone to his ear.

"_Reeves."_

"Megan, it's David."

"_David! Where are you?" _She sounded relieved.

"I'm with Don."

"_Great. Where are you?" _She repeated sounding even more relieved.

"Uh, not so great Megan." David said carefully. "Don doesn't remember who he is and has a gun on me."

"_What!"_

"He wants a car and free passage out of the mall."

There was a long pause before she spoke again, saying each word carefully in a tone that demanded an answer. _"David, tell me where you are."_

He covered the microphone. "She wants to know where we are. It's better that they know." David continued as Don started to shake his head. "When we move they won't be surprised and there is less risk of getting shot."

"They shoot at me I shoot you."

David licked his suddenly dry lips as the gun rose in emphasis. "Then it is better that they know where we are."

"No one comes into the store." Don finally ordered.

David addressed himself to the phone. "We're in the sports store. You were just out the front a minute ago."

"_On my way."_

"Megan! Don't come in or he'll shoot."

"_David, sit tight. Do whatever he says. I'm on my way."_ Megan hung up.

"She's on her way back." David explained at Don's questioning look.

"So, who's this Megan? She the one in charge?" He stood so that he could see out the front of the store.

The agent saw that Don made sure however that he stayed hidden behind a shelf and that he kept David in his line of sight. "No, you are."

Don's hand flexed on the butt of his gun as he glanced back down at the seated man. "Make sure you remember that." He said in a dangerous tone.

David swallowed. He knew what his boss was capable of when held back by the constraint of being a good guy. What would he be capable of now when he thought he was a criminal that had already committed murder? He decided to answer the original question; he didn't want to know the answer to his own. "Megan is in charge when you're not. She can get you what you want."

"Good." Don suddenly ducked down in reaction to something outside. He started to turn towards David.

David watched in concern as he saw Don stagger with his left hand flying to his head. It looked like the head injury was making itself felt. Don needed medical attention soon. The moment passed and the gun that had started to waver firmed. The muzzle then jerked upwards. David climbed carefully to his feet and moved forward as directed. An arm went about his neck pulling him down and off balance slightly due to their differences in height as Don moved in behind him. At that moment a female voice called from the front of the store.

"David?"

He was pushed sideways, past several short dead-end aisles until they left the cover of the shelving and were in the centre isle of the store. A weight settled on his right shoulder and a shiver passed through him as the barrel of Don's gun pressed into the skin under the angle of his jaw. Megan's gun was up, as per procedure, but not quite aimed at Don as she stood on the threshold.

"You Megan?" Don demanded.

Megan's gaze shifted to meet David's for a moment. He nodded so she answered the question. "I'm Megan."

"Is my car ready?"

"Just slow it down, Don. I need to be sure David is alright."

David started to speak but the arm around his neck tightened and Don answered for him. "He's fine. I haven't killed him yet. But I will if you don't get me my damned car and back off."

"Don, you don't want to kill anyone."

"How would you know that?" Don fired right back sounding angered. "I don't even know that."

"I know you, I know that this isn't you. Let David go and we'll get you to a doctor."

"I don't want a doctor, I want a car." Don demanded. "Or you get another dead agent."

David saw her confusion at the reference to 'another' dead agent implying that there was already one. "What dead agent?"

"The one I killed just before." Don said, sounding like he was explaining something to an idiot.

"That was Lawson and he was not an agent." Megan explained, not knowing that she was echoing David's own words. "Don, you've been hurt. It looks like you and Lawson got into a standoff, how I have no idea, but he's wearing your vest and badge. You need medical attention urgently. We'll figure out what happened."

"Five minutes." Don pulled David back, out of Megan's sight. He raised his voice as he continued his demands. "Keys or a dead agent. Your choice."

David was abruptly released and pushed downwards. He sat, looking back up as he saw Don virtually fall to the floor. He moved forward wanting to help his boss but froze, Don had recovered and was holding the gun on him again. Not as steady as before but the aim was more than good enough. He eased back. "Don, you need to go to hospital."

"Shut up." Don manoeuvred himself into a more comfortable seated position leaning against a shelf.

Unfortunately Don also managed to keep the gun up and David could do nothing but wait.

--


	3. Chapter 3

**Numb3rs: Critical Identity**

**Disclaimer** – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however.

_**A/N:**__ This was conceived and mostly written before Chinese Box. It is just a coincidence that David got himself into the same mess twice. And now, all will be revealed…_

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Megan watched in disbelief as Don dragged David behind some shelves. Don seemed convinced that he had killed an agent and was now desperate to escape. Desperate enough to take an agent hostage and threaten him. Don clearly had amnesia as David had stated, probably caused by the wound to his head. But there was no way she could accede to his demand and let him leave the mall. Aside from his wound, it was obvious that Don was just too dangerous. Megan had to find another way to resolve this. She backed off to where she could watch the front of the store but not be seen from Don's location. She holstered her gun and pulled out her phone pressing the speed dial.

"_Granger."_

"Colby, have you searched Lawson?" Her words were clipped and precise.

"_Not yet."_ The other agent answered. _"We're still waiting for the crime scene photographer to get here."_

"Search him now. I think he might have taken Don's ID."

"_Stand-by."_ Colby said. A few moments passed and he came back on the line. _"Got it, Don's ID was in Lawson's pocket."_

"Get it over to me urgently. I'm outside the Allsports store in E-Hall."

"_It's on its way."_

Good man, he could tell it was important by the tone of her voice and didn't waste time asking questions. "Are the EMTs there yet?"

"_Waiting here with me."_

"Tell them to be ready to move to my location when I give the word, we might need them fast."

"_Received."_

Megan snapped her phone closed. She paced back and forth checking her watch as she waited. Time was passing. Almost three minutes since Don's demand and his five minute time limit. She had no doubt he would stick to it. David was in real danger.

"Agent?"

"Here." Megan turned to see a uniform running towards her. The man handed over a slim leather wallet. Don's ID.

"What's going on?"

"Hostage situation. Agent Eppes has been wounded and is suffering amnesia. He thinks he's killed an agent and has taken Agent Sinclair hostage for free passage out." She explained tersely.

The officer, by the stripes on his sleeve an experienced man, nodded. "How do you want to play it?"

"I'm going to try talking to him again, see if I can convince him who and what he is." Megan held up Don's ID.

"Do you want me to call for SWAT?"

"No!" Megan wanted to avoid that if at all possible. She saw the officer's reaction and explained. "I want to try this first. If it doesn't work then we'll have to call them in." The officer nodded, knowing now that she was considering all the options and not just reacting. She went to the front of the store. "Don?"

"Is my car ready?" Don's voice floated back over the display shelves.

"Can I come in?"

"No!" Don sounded somewhat incredulous that she would even suggest such a thing.

Knowing that it was a serious risk Megan pulled the weapon from her holster and handed it to the LAPD officer. "Don, I'm unarmed. I have something to show you."

"Unless it fits into the ignition of a car I'm not interested."

She saw movement then a head peered around the aisle down which she'd last seen the two agents. Lifting her hands she stepped forward. If it would get her in then, "I have keys as well."

The head disappeared, there were some scuffing noises and David was pushed forwards slightly. Taking that as acceptance she turned to the officer. "Cover me. Remember he is one of ours, only shoot if absolutely necessary." It was hard but she had to acknowledge the possibility that the officer may have to fire on her boss.

The officer pulled out his service weapon, the safety clicking off. "I understand."

Megan stepped forward slowly but purposefully, she was going in. She saw David's gaze shift to the leather wallet in her left hand and recognise it for what it was.

"That's, that's far enough." Don instructed. He sounded a bit rocky.

She stopped. From this distance, a mere three metres away, she could see how unwell Don was. His face was pale with blood oozing from the wound above his left ear. From the way Don was holding David it looked like he was a support as much as a shield. Don's gun hand was trembling and it looked like he was having trouble keeping himself awake. Megan could see however that even though he didn't remember who he was he still had the stamina and determination that was all Don. She would have to tread carefully, it could easily go bad in a big way. She was acutely aware of the LAPD officer somewhere behind her and that he would be drawing a bead on Don's head.

"Don, I want you to look at this." Megan raised her left hand presenting Don's ID, open for his inspection. He looked at it but there was no reaction. "Don, this is you. This is your ID."

"Looks like me," Don started. He staggered a little, leaning more of his weight on David. Megan had to concentrate to understand his words, they were faint and starting to run together. "Looks a bit like the one I killed as well."

Opening her mouth to counter the argument she realised the fugitive Lawson that they'd been pursuing did in fact have a passing resemblance to Don, similar height and build and the same short dark hair.

"I want," Don started, his words slurred. He blinked and tried again. "I want the keyyyssss…"

The last word was drawn out as his eyes rolled up and he crumpled, sliding down David's back to the floor. His gun clattered beside him.

Megan and David moved at the same time, David securing the weapon and recovering his own as Megan checked Don's vitals.

"Officer, get those EMTs here!" Megan yelled out.

They rolled Don onto his side and made sure he was breathing easily as they waited. Less than a minute later two paramedics ran into the store following the police officer. The two agents backed off to give them room to work. A few minutes later the unconscious senior agent was loaded onto a stretcher and wheeled out to the waiting ambulance. The LAPD officer was sent along as a guard.

-100-1111-1110-

"Donny?" A soothing male voice queried.

It took him a moment but he got his mind working well enough to identify that it was his father. "Dad?"

"Yes, Don." Alan said. "Can you open your eyes for me son?"

It was a struggle but he finally managed. He frowned, from the ceiling he could tell this wasn't his room at the craftsman house. It wasn't the lounge room or even his own unit. Where else would he be lying in bed with his father in attendance? The headache didn't help him make sense of what was happening. "Where-?"

"You're in the hospital. Do you remember what happened?"

He thought about it. He remembered being at the office then getting the tip about Simon Lawson. They'd been hunting the bank robber and his crew for most of the week, Lawson was the last one they had yet to round up. They'd geared up and headed to the mall where Lawson had just been spotted. After that it was a blank. He got some flashes of running down empty mall corridors but that was it. He told his father as much. The next question surprised him.

"Do you remember who you are?"

He turned his head a little too sharply triggering some painful throbbing. Don tried to lift his left hand only to find it brought up short with a metallic clatter. He looked back at his wrist. What he saw cleared away some of the cobwebs. "What the hell is this?"

Alan looked at the handcuffs. He gently placed his hand over his son's wrist pushing downwards as he repeated his question.

Don stared at him for a moment before deciding that he would have a very good reason for asking, just as there had better be a damned good reason why he was handcuffed to the hospital bed. "My name is Donald Alan Eppes."

"And?"

"And I'm about to be a very pissed off FBI agent if I don't get these cuffs off!" He jerked his hand out from under his father's, causing the cuffs to clang on the metal rail.

"Easy, son. We had to be sure you remembered." Alan stood and headed for the door.

Alan stuck his head outside and spoke softly. He stepped aside as Megan came in, followed by David, Colby and Charlie. The room was getting crowded. They all looked relieved to see him even if he was working his way up to being angry. Charlie pushed his way forwards to the side of the bed, dropping his laptop onto the little table on his way.

"Hey Bro'." Charlie greeted him.

"Hey yourself."

"Are you okay?"

"I will be." Don rattled the handcuffs again pointedly even as Megan was already approaching with her keys in her hand.

As soon as his wrist was free he snatched it away, rubbing it with his right hand. "What gives?"

"Do you remember anything after we got to the mall yesterday?"

"Yesterday? It's tomorrow already?" _He'd been out that long? What had happened to him?_

"Son, you've been unconscious since yesterday afternoon." Alan explained. The doctor had warned him that Don would be disoriented. "It's now Saturday, just before lunch time."

"Oh."

"You gave us quite a scare." Charlie added.

"I gave you a scare?" Don said with not a little surprise. "I have no idea how I came to be here."

"So you don't remember anything after getting to the mall?"

"Just flashes, running mostly. The mall was empty."

"Nothing else?" Megan pressed.

"No. What happened?" He warily eyed the handcuffs that she still held. "Did I do something?"

Megan glanced at David before answering. "You could say that."

Charlie meanwhile had opened up the laptop computer that was on the table at the end of his bed and tapped a few keys. When he was ready he slid the table closer to Don and turned the computer around so he could see the screen. Don started to sit up with Alan dashing in to press the remote to raise the end of the bed.

"What have you got?" Don demanded impatiently. He needed to know what happened that could have resulted in him being handcuffed to the hospital bed. More to the point he needed to know how he came to be in the hospital in the first place.

"This is from the mall surveillance footage." Charlie explained.

"Before we get to that," Megan interrupted. "We have to get this clear. Your father says you remember leaving the office to go to the mall after Lawson, right?"

"Yeah." Don finally remembered that he had been about to raise his left hand earlier before discovering the handcuffs. He lifted his hand now to feel the bandage that wrapped around his head. The left side was especially tender. "But nothing much after that."

"You don't remember catching up to Lawson?"

He gave it some consideration. They were obviously about to show him footage which hopefully explained what happened. His recollection however had to be clear and from personal knowledge, not influence by the footage. Megan needed to know exactly what he recalled before he watched the images. "No."

"Alright, Charlie." Megan nodded at the math professor after making a notation in her notebook. "Show him."

The laptop screen opened to an overhead view down one of the halls inside the mall. The high resolution was a nice change from some of the grainy surveillance footage he'd been watching lately, making it easy for him to recognise Lawson running towards the camera. Shoppers could be seen scattering. A second figure appeared obviously in pursuit and Don recognised himself. He saw himself stop and figured that he must have been calling upon Lawson to surrender. The fugitive ignored him and continued out of camera shot.

Charlie tapped the mouse pad and another screen opened over the top of the first showing a different camera angle. Lawson was now standing still, tucked into an alcove looking back towards the corner where another hall intersected the one he was in. Don got a bad feeling; this had all the signs of an ambush. He'd been caught out like this before back at the assisted living facility when he'd had a gun smashed into the back of his head by another fugitive, Garrity. Sure enough there he was running around the corner only to have Lawson step out in front of him. He saw himself skid to a halt, Lawson's gun only a foot or so from his nose. His own weapon was useless down at his side.

He watched his mouth moving, obviously he had tried to talk his way out of it, before seeing Lawson take his gun. He handed over his vest, the badge off his belt and the contents of his pockets. He then was made to turn away, Lawson's gun jerking downwards. He went down onto one knee. Don's heart sank somewhere into his stomach as he watched the images. He could only imagine too well the thoughts that must have passed through his mind at this point. His father must have seen his reaction as Alan's hand reached for his and squeezed gently.

"It's alright Don. You're safe."

He could only nod and squeeze the hand back as his eyes were glued to the screen. Lawson was putting on the vest and slid the badge onto his own belt before pocketing Don's ID and wallet. He tucked away his own silver pistol in favour of Don's Glock.

"It looked like he was going to try to get out pretending to be an agent and using your ID." Megan summed up as the images progressed. "His appearance was close enough to yours that it might have worked."

Don noted his right arm moving, saw that he was reaching for his ankle, for his backup weapon whilst Lawson was distracted. He hadn't looked behind so he figured he must have been using the reflection from a shop window in front of him. Lawson apparently didn't notice the furtive movements. Once Lawson had finished setting himself up he turned his attention back to the agent. Don saw the fugitive's arm moving and himself looking back in response to something that Lawson must have said.

Then there was a sudden flurry of movement, almost too fast to track. Don rose swiftly to his feet, spinning and bringing up his right arm and his backup gun. There was a flash of flame from the muzzle. Both figures then dropped simultaneously to the floor, blood pouring from Lawson's head.

A few seconds later Don saw himself regain consciousness and sit up. He checked the body before reacting to something off screen and running into a nearby shop. Charlie then switched from camera to camera following Don as he hid in the store, ran away and finally to the standoff in the sports store.

Don looked over at David as the last image was frozen, that of himself unconscious on the floor. He couldn't believe what he had done but there it was in full living colour. "David, I'm sorry."

"It's cool, Don."

"Why did I do that?"

"You didn't remember who you were. You thought that Lawson was an agent and that you'd killed one of us. You were desperate to get away." David explained.

That explained the handcuffs restraining him to the hospital bed. If he woke up and was still in that frame of mind they had to ensure that he wouldn't try to escape. He went back over the images in his mind. None of it had jogged any real memories and it seemed unreal to have to rely on surveillance footage to fill in the gaps. "Wow." He said softly to himself.

"Yeah." David agreed. "Just do me one favour will you Don?"

"Anything."

"Don't go rogue. You are one scary bad guy."

"No chance of that." He managed to sound confident but inside he was worried. He had a fair idea what he was capable of, normally keeping that part of himself well and truly hidden and under control. He channelled those skills and that mindset to catching criminals, driving his team to achieve their spectacular clear-up rate as a result. But there were times where he had walked the knife edge, times he could have given in to temptation and taken matters into his own hands but hadn't. His team had seen some of it when Megan had been taken. Now they knew for sure and he could see the knowledge of that in their expressions. They still trusted him but it was tempered with a little wariness.

"Glad to hear it."

END

_**A/N:**__ This was always meant to be a short tale, just a quick opposite story to Charlie's amnesia. _

_Real life has now intruded. I am being transferred at work, which means that I am currently selling my house and will be moving in about 4 weeks. After that there is the fun of house hunting for a new place to live. The new job will also incur a huge learning curve. Hence my time will be somewhat limited and regrettably there will likely be fewer postings over the next few months. I will be writing as much as I can so hopefully I will pop up now and then so stay tuned._

_Thanks for reading and reviewing._


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